Claire put the groceries that needed refrigeration away, and left the rest. She gave Gina some wheat crackers and string cheese, took her by the hand and rushed to Mrs. Densmore’s door. It seemed like ages before the woman answered.
On the surface Mrs. Densmore looked her usual self, except she hadn’t bothered to pull her shock of white hair back in a bun. It hung thin and limply on her hunched up shoulders. Her face seemed stiff, dried drool clung to the corners of her mouth, where a peculiar grin contradicted her plea for help. No, this wasn’t at all like the normal Mrs. Densmore.
“I’m sick,” she said. “I thought it was flu. It’s something else.”
“Do you want me to take you to the urgent care or E.R.?” Claire asked, trying to hide her alarm.
“I don’t want to go there. Can you examine me?”
Now was not the time to argue with someone about their being stubborn. Her landlady needed her help.
Gina wanted to hug Mrs. Densmore the way she always did. Claire bent down to make eye-to-eye contact with her. “Mrs. Densmore is sick, Gina. I need you to be good.”
Gina’s wide blue eyes stared at the older lady. “She thick? I be good.” With that, she walked across the room, patted Mrs. Densmore’s hand, then crawled up on her favorite antique rocking chair and started it in motion. “Where you hurt?”
Mrs. Densmore didn’t respond to Gina, a child she normally showered with attention, and Claire knew the woman needed medical attention.
She cleared her head and opened her nursing bag. Normally, she didn’t do home visits, especially when casual acquaintances were trying to tap her for an easy diagnosis. The liability issue was an entirely different matter. But her landlady wasn’t like that.
She listened to Mrs. Densmore’s list of complaints: back pain, generalized stiffness, and jaw pain for the last week, which had been getting progressively worse. Heart attacks presented with non-traditional symptoms in women. She needed to rule that out. Or a stroke.
“Have you lost consciousness at any time?” Claire asked, and noted the woman’s head shake. “Are you sure?”
Mrs. Densmore gave a sharp stare in answer.
“Give me your hands. Squeeze mine.” Mrs. Densmore’s grip was equal on both sides. Normally she’d ask a patient to smile to help check for stroke, but the odd grin was already in place. And she’d had a steady even gait.
Claire did a head to toe assessment. Mrs. Densmore’s heart rate and rhythm were normal, and so was her blood pressure. Her lungs sounded clear, though it seemed hard for her to take in a deep breath. When Claire got to the woman’s hands, she saw several scratches and one angry, swollen cut on her middle finger.
“Gardening,” Mrs. Densmore said. “Those stubborn roses.” It seemed difficult for her to talk and swallow.
Gardening. Cuts. Generalized stiffness. Facial spasm. A stubborn woman who avoided the doctor. Mrs. Densmore had recently cleared out a new area in the overgrown back yard. The soil hadn’t been disturbed in decades. A dismal thought unnerved Claire. Anaerobic spores in old soil.
“When was the last time you had a tetanus shot?”
The woman made a pfft sound, as if to say Those silly little things?
Claire didn’t want to make a snap decision, but she had a horrendous feeling that her landlady might be in the early stages of tetanus. But who in the world got tetanus these days? Claire had read a recent article in a geriatric journal about an increased incidence of tetanus in elderly gardeners and, if her memory served her right, the older the patient the higher the fatality rate.
“I’m taking you to the E.R.,” Claire said.
“No. I won’t go.”
“You may have had a heart attack or maybe it’s tetanus!”
“You don’t know that for sure. You’re not a doctor.”
Mrs. Densmore’s traditional and outdated views surprised Claire, but she wasn’t about to argue with the woman in her time of need.
“Then I’ll get one.” And though she’d been a coward all day and had avoided Jason at work, she was worried enough on Mrs. Densmore’s behalf to dig into her purse, fish out her cellphone, locate his number and speed dial it.
“Jason? I need your help. My landlady wants a doctor’s input before she’ll let me take her to the E.R.” Claire gave a frustrated glare at her stubborn landlady. “Where she belongs.”
When Jason offered to come right over instead of brushing her off, Claire was both surprised and relieved. He may have clicked into concerned doctor mode, but it hadn’t made her any less upset with him for being such a jerk earlier.
“How long ago did you get those scratches?” she asked, focusing back on her patient.
“A week or so, but I get scratched up all the time.” The woman looked at her wounded hands, then at Claire. Fear sparked in her eyes. “I started having trouble swallowing today,” she said in a confessional voice. “That’s why I called you.”
Claire rushed to her side and put an arm around her. “If Dr. Rogers says you need to go to the hospital, please don’t fight him. OK?”
A tinge of regret crossed over Mrs. Densmore’s face. “I know you know what you’re doing. It’s just that I’m afraid to go to the doctor. When Gerald went, he never came home.”
Claire found and handed her a tissue to wipe the brimming tears.
“Medicare can only pay for so much, then you’re on your own,” Mrs. Densmore said. “They wanted to take our house. It’s all I have left.” The Densmores had never had children. The woman didn’t have a family support system that Claire knew of.
“I’ll pay for whatever your insurance doesn’t. Don’t sweat it.” A sharp pang of empathy had Claire making a promise she wasn’t sure she could keep. Hell, she could hardly handle her own finances. If she had to, she’d moonlight somewhere in order to help Mrs. Densmore.
Jason must have flown instead of driven because it seemed that only ten minutes later he banged on the mansion door.
Gina ran across the tiled foyer. “Man,” she said with a squeal, pointing to Jason when Claire opened the door.
He crouched beside her. “Hey, squirt. What’s new?”
Gina jumped up and down. “I drawed you pictures.”
“And they were pretty,” he said.
“Pwetty.” Gina ran around in circles to show her delight. “Pwetty!”
Though distracted at first, Claire and Jason greeted each other cautiously. She thought she’d noticed a hint of contrition in his expression, but he didn’t apologize. Claire was grateful to see him and, since they were both focused on a medical condition, none of the awkward fallout she’d imagined there’d be after their first kiss and his subsequent jerk attack at work existed.
Less than fifteen minutes later, he’d convinced Mrs. Densmore where she needed to be. They got the woman into his car and decided that Claire would stay home with Gina.
Jason backed the silver Mercedes sedan out of the circular driveway. “I’ll talk to you later,” he said.
By eight o’clock, Claire had fed and bathed Gina, read her a goodnight story, and put her to bed. She’d changed into more comfortable clothing—navy-blue velvet warm ups—and fed Mrs. Densmore’s litter of cats, then tried to catch up on her Holistic Health journal reading, though she had trouble concentrating. By quarter to ten she thought about calling Jason, but didn’t want to interfere if he was still at the E.R.
At 10:00 p.m. she heard tapping at her door and reacted with static electricity on her arms and up her neck.
There he stood, hair across his brow, looking depleted but with enough energy to engage her with a single earnest glance. “You were right,” he said with half a smile. He followed her into the living room, took off his jacket and laid it over the back of couch, then sat. She joined him on the opposite end, aware of his aftershave and evening stubble.
“So what do they do now?” she asked.
“They’ve already started her on tetanus immunoglobulin and transferred her to the ICU.”
Claire flo
pped against the cushions. “Can you believe it? Tetanus in this day and age?”
“You’ve done another terrific job of diagnosing,” he said with admiration in his eyes.
It made her want to smile, but she curled her toes instead. “You look tired. Would you like some chamomile tea?”
“Sounds good,” he said, “but first I owe you an apology.”
“I wasn’t snooping, Jason.”
“I know that. I’m sorry I snapped at you.”
She stared at him for a long moment, and sensed his sincerity. “Apology accepted.” She stopped herself from saying—tell me about that picture. Where are they? What happened to them? “Why don’t you make yourself comfortable while I get that tea.”
He kicked off his shoes and put his feet up on her coffee table, and it surprised her. Maybe he’d relax and finally open up.
On the way to the kitchen, she felt jittery and excitable, as if she’d injected a pot of coffee into her veins. Jason had done that to her. She fished around for some cookies to serve with the tea. Why had he chosen to come in person instead of call?
She wouldn’t waste the chance to talk to him. Who knew if she’d ever have another opportunity?
Jason had put his hands behind his head and closed his eyes when she returned. They opened shortly after she entered the room.
“It’s been a long day,” she said.
He responded with a sleepy smile and, fighting off a yawn, he reached for a chocolate chip cookie. “My favorite,” he said. “How d’you know?” His eyes teased her as he crunched.
She curled into the corner of the couch and faced him, teacup in hand. Now that Mrs. Densmore was under the appropriate care, she wondered how to broach the other subject foremost on her mind: her new quest for friendship with Jason.
“While I’m apologizing for things, I guess I owe you an explanation for the other night, too,” he said.
She almost spilled her tea, but quickly gathered her thoughts and decided to take a huge risk. “And I’d like to know about your family.”
He scrubbed his face, and stared hard across the room, as though at nothingness, for several long moments.
“Ten years ago I married my wife, Jessica.” His voice sounded monotone and guarded. “Two years later we had Hanna. You found their picture today. They were the light of my life, as the cliché goes. We talked about having more children, but it never happened. Thought maybe the summer would be a good time to try again.” He paused and took a deep breath. “When the clinic opened Phil, Jon, René and I vowed to give it our undivided attention. We worked hard and long at seeing extra patients, hoping word would get out and we’d pick up more clientele. So Jessica and I decided we needed a weekend away. We wanted to do something Hanna would enjoy. She was four, so we made plans to take the train up the coast. But I got held up at work.”
He squinted hard at the fire, as if visualizing something horrible.
“I told them to go ahead. That I’d meet them up there.” He stopped, his brows twisted, and he pinched his lips together as if fighting off a wave of emotion.
Claire’s line of thinking jumped ahead. She remembered a horrendous train crash four or five years ago. She remembered seeing the human carnage amidst twisted metal and derailed train cars on the local TV news. Fifty people had died that day. Her heart squeezed, trying to fathom Jason’s pain. She wanted to lunge for him, to throw her arms around his neck and cry with him, but he wasn’t shedding a tear. He sat as if numbed by the memories. As if oddly removed from the story that had once been a dark and tragic reality.
He glanced toward her with haunted, weary eyes. “I was supposed to be with them.”
Claire’s throat tightened, making it difficult to swallow her tea. She couldn’t believe what she’d heard. In one instant his family had been wiped out. How could anyone deal with such loss? He seemed to stare right through her. She didn’t know what to do. Her hand shot for his. “Jason, I’m so sorry.”
A lump clogged Claire’s chest. She found it hard to breathe. She thought about the precious gift of her child, and wondered what she would do. She couldn’t survive if Gina died.
And Jason had lost both his wife and child.
He moved his hand. “Don’t.”
She thought of how he’d gazed gently at Gina when she’d fallen asleep in his lap that time, and she wanted to cry. What must he have been thinking? Without knowing it, she’d probably caused him more grief.
He put his shoes back on, grabbed his coat and headed for the door.
She rushed to beat him there and, not giving a damn about what his rules were, hugged him, long and tight. She buried her head under his chin and snuggled against his chest, wanting only to show him he wasn’t alone in this world. He may have lost the most precious part of his life, but he wasn’t alone.
Instead of being embarrassed about it, she was glad she’d kissed him with her soul Friday night. He deserved no less. And he’d taken a risk with her by reaching out. It touched her. Made her wish things could be different.
He felt rigid and unreceptive, like a man too proud to let anyone help. What a pair they made. She who’d never allow herself to trust a man again, and he who’d never let another woman into his heart.
She gradually disengaged from the one-sided hug.
“I won’t tolerate your pity, Claire,” he said, then left.
His warning took her by surprise, as if he’d pushed her against a wall. She stared at him as he walked away, and heat rose up her cheeks.
“No more than I’d accept yours!” she called out before he got into his car. A ball of anger and confusion twined around her as she slammed the door with shaky hands.
Tuesday morning, Claire went into work early to make calls to patients who were taking herbs that interacted negatively with their current prescribed medications. She’d chosen to call patients she knew worked and were up early. This way she’d have time in the evening to visit Mrs. Densmore. She heard Jason’s footsteps up the stairs and her heart stumbled over the next beat. He stopped outside her door. Turned his head and nodded a greeting.
“Hello, Jason,” she said, as casually as her thrumming pulse would allow.
“What are you doing here so early?”
She explained why she’d come in and he stepped inside her office. “Give me some of those,” he said, reaching for her pile of surveys.
“You don’t have to help.”
He tossed her an impatient glance and grabbed half the stack on his way out the door.
As she shook her head at the empty doorway, she heard him step into the waiting room and fiddle with something. Was he turning on the diffuser for the aromatherapy?
A few minutes later when the scent of lavender, ylang-ylang and rosemary wafted up her nose, she smiled in disbelief while she made her next phone call.
Throughout the day, in between her patient appointments, she cogitated over how to reach out to Jason, how to be his friend. He wasn’t looking for a replacement for his wife, and she didn’t want to ever depend on a man again—theirs seemed like an ideal friendship. Except her body always reacted in unexpected ways whenever he was near, and she was confused about desiring him as a man while settling for a tame friendship. It seemed such a shame to let a good man like Jason live life as a zombie. But if he continued to shut her out of his personal life, all she would have was their business relationship.
She wanted more. The thought sent her sitting back in her chair. She was kidding herself about only wanting friendship with Jason. If she analyzed further, this desire to be friends with Jason was her way of working up the confidence to trust a man again. She shook her head. Of all the men in the entire world to get involved with, Jason seemed the least likely candidate.
That evening at the hospital ICU, Claire was surprised to see that her landlady had been intubated. Claire reached for her hand and squeezed when she arrived. Mrs. Densmore’s anxious flitting eyes found Claire and blinked with questions.
Her
nurse explained that reflex muscle spasms were causing respiratory compromise, and they planned to perform a tracheotomy the next day. She said they intended to use neuromuscular blocking medications and Mrs. Densmore needed to be mechanically ventilated.
The thought of Gerald Densmore going to the hospital and never coming home had been enough to make her delay seeking medical advice. She could only imagine what was going through her landlady’s mind now.
Claire got close to her face. “You are going to pull through this. I know you will.” She held both of her hands and squeezed. “I’m taking care of the cats, so don’t worry.” The irony of a woman who’d avoided the doctor all her life, only to wind up in the ICU in such distress, didn’t go unnoticed by Claire, and she suspected it was all that Mrs. Densmore thought about while lying in the bed staring at the ceiling.
Wednesday Claire worked like a fiend to complete her initial herbal supplement survey, and gave the “What to Expect When Nursing” class for René’s pregnant clients in the morning. After, she called the hospital and found out Mrs. Densmore’s procedure had gone well, and she was stable.
In the afternoon, she facilitated the “Stop Smoking Now” class for Phil’s pulmonary patients. When the memo came across her desk about the staff meeting on Thursday night, Claire worked even faster to finish the survey. Unfortunately for the other doctors, Gina would again be taking the meeting along with them.
Gina brought her brand-new board book, Find the Puppy, along when Claire picked her up from the sitter’s Thursday evening before the staff meeting. She’d also drawn another picture for Jason. They’d spent no less than five minutes rehearsing how to say his name.
This time, they arrived early enough for Claire to feed Gina some finger sandwiches and apple slices before the meeting began.
Jon was the first to arrive, looking as though he’d just completed a mini marathon in a damp T-shirt, warm-up pants and running shoes with huge soles. He’d been known to hit the beachside trail during his lunch hour for a quick run, but today he must have gone after the clinic had closed. It was no secret he was training for the May marathon in Los Angeles and, for a man his age, he looked in tip-top condition.
The Boss and Nurse Albright Page 8
